Draco The Boy Whom They Forgot
by whooivan
Summary: I'm writing a story from Draco's point of view, a bit like a diary, but a little different too. half dairy half him remembering and than it's going to go into present.
1. Chapter 1

Chapter 1.

I think it's fair to say that I never really liked Harry Potter, that big loud mouth who thought he could get away with hardly any work because he was the 'chosen one'. Just like Snape had said in that first potions class. I liked Professor Snape's dislike for the boy. At least I had one teacher on my side. The rest of the teachers seemed to be delusional or something. It was luck that my two friends Crabbe and Goyle were in the same house as me, WITHOUT Harry. Crab and Goyle weren't too bright, but there were one step ahead of the others, at least they didn't think harry potter was a god or something. Clearly he isn't. do you agree? Well if you don't agree with me you better put this story away before I put a charm on you.

One thing I could never understand is what was going through Hermione's head. She was a... how do I put this... attractive? Girl. Why would she spend her time with harry potter and a second hand, pale skinned ginger? The Weasleys seemed to have a hatred for me as well. Why? All I did was call them hand-me-down gingers.

I spent weeks wondering what I could have done to make the famous Harry Potter to befriend me, no matter if he was in Gryffindor and i was a Slytherin. I could not hide my hatred for the boy. Still all I could think of was how proud father would be to hear that I had befriended a wizard of such high social standing.

All through out school I have been pushed away by harry, with him growing up to be quite the meddler, well he simply couldn't keep his nose out of other peoples business! I mean he tried to take on a fully-grown troll in first year! He got worse from then, he tried to save the Philosophers stone (sorcerers stone) that year too.

I did get some joy however by versing him in Quiddich the next year. i had gone home over the holidays and talked father into buying me AND the Slytherin Quiddich team all nimbus 2001's so that I could be seeker. Harry would never be able to top that, not even with his fluke flying skills. The bad news was that Hermione was a mud blood. Slytherin pride says that we must scorn Mud-bloods no matter what we really think about them. I did take pleasure is seeing the look of fury cross Ronald Weasley face the day I called her a mud-blood. Then his spell backfired and he ended up eating slugs. The best thing was that it wasn't my fault. Because there was absolutely nothing I could do about it. He had said the spell, and he should have known that his magical skills weren't advanced enough to perform such a basic spell.

Draco sighed and put down his pencil, why was his mother getting him to write an introduction to himself and keep a diary? It seemed like a stupid muggle tradition. He attempted to write again, picking up the flimsy lead pencil to the parchment like paper. There was nothing to write about now. Its all over, his family were shamed. Voldemort had fallen and it was harry who defeated him. In his anger I pressed the tip of my pencil into the notebook. The fragile graphite-lead tip ground and shattered into powder. Hell, this isn't even a quill Draco scorned as he brushed the ground lead and graphite off the page. _If _it had been a quill the grey-silver blur on my page simply wouldn't exist.

Ever since the war my parents have been hiding, I wasn't forced into hiding, well not yet. The compromise was that I would keep a diary to give to mother when I finally had to join them. I guess the one thing I had gotten out of the war was that what ever happens I definitely do not want to be a death eater anymore. I just sank back into the walls of Hogwarts and helped with the rebuilding efforts. Harry Hermione and Ron had stayed on of course, even though we had all officially finished our schooling. Every day there would be there, the un separable trio, Hermione with her hair pulled back into a neat ponytail working tirelessly next to Harry and Ron.

Hermione had always been a mystery to me, a mud-blood no less, but she was very interesting. She said her father was a dentist who looked after your teeth. Was being a dentist a dangerous job? It involved looking at rows of sharp teeth, it must be the equivalent of a dragon trainer surely.

I got up off the pile of rubble and stuffed the small pocket diary into my jeans pocket and began moving he rubble, piece by piece. I didn't understand why we couldn't just use magic to repair Hogwarts. We could fix the school with a few wand flicks, but the others had insisted, I mean 'Dumbledore's Army' had insisted that we not use magic. Each rock was sharp and scratched my hands, leaving scrape marks, but they never broke the skin. Behind me a small group of first years hurried buy. Yes, Hogwarts was still open despite it's depleted state. How could I complain though, I am a Slytherin, and I should be proud. The Days merged into one another; sometimes Draco couldn't remember what day it was half the time.

Early one morning, it must have been after Christmas when an owl arrived for Draco. Draco was sitting in the Owlry looking over the piles of snow-covered rubble that still remained after the battle when Bubo, flew in, dropping the letter on my lap. Bubo sat on a perch looking at me triumphantly, as if he were expecting praise or a treat.

"Get lost," he muttered, shifting my gaze to the letter that now lay in my lap. Draco sighed, the letter was as he had predicted, from his mother. She had written to him nearly every day for a long time. Draco hardly had anything to write back, nothing new or slightly interesting was happening at all. He broke the seal tearing apart the carefully folded envelope. Draco missed the details like this. The envelope had been made by his mother as she had run out of envelopes but had wanted to send Draco this message so desperately she had turned to making her own envelope. Draco unfolded the parchment and began to read the message his mother had written. He only reached a few lines in when he began shouting in protest.


	2. Chapter 2

"No, No! I can't go, I can't leave now!" He shouted. The indignant look in his eye had vanished. It was replaced with a look of fury. It was almost like steam was coming of Draco's.

"Mother Cannot do this to me!" Draco yelled, his hand crumbling the letter he held. Bubo flew up, startled at Draco's harsh reaction, catching Draco's flailing hand with it's claw as he flew. Blood poured out of the scratch, like lava from a volcano. Draco clenched his fist.

"Stupid, Stupid worthless Bird!" Draco yelled after Bubo, nursing his bleeding hand. "I told mother that you were useless!" he yelled, picking up a sharp piece of rubble and hurtling it after Bubo. Bubo was a smart owl and heard the rubble whistling through the air and ducked out of the way into a perch high up in the Owlry. Draco took his anger out on the wall instead, watching his foot again and again into the solid stone wall.

Eventually a frustrated and injured Draco limped from the owlry and down the stairs and into the courtyard. Everyone stared at him as he limped shoulders bent over, cradling his hand with his usual geled back hair falling down over his eyes.. Draco in his fury couldn't bear it. _Look at me _he muttered angrily in his head. _Look at me now I'm injured! _Draco limped on, towards the hospital ward, where he would be welcomed. His toes stung with every step, as if every bone in his foot was broken, but he daren't show the pain other wise he'd be called an attention seeker. Everyone thought he was an attention seeker, even the new wizards and witches. Draco simply did not understand why. Whenever he helped or did anything it went un noticed, only when he mucked up he was noticed. Harry, Hermione and that red head by the name of Weasley got praised and noticed for everything. It was completely and utterly unfair. What had Ron done anyway, Fallen for Hermione? Sounds about it. Ron had the brains of his so-called mouse Scabbers. He'd done more then Ron throughout school, but Ron had passed his Wizardry Exams before he had even walked into the exam hall, where as Draco? He'd had to sweat and struggle through all seven exams, now he was barley qualified to take even filches job. Draco stormed away as fast as his limp would take him. He could feel Hermione's gaze burning through the back of his hair.

Draco didn't get out of the hospital for two days. Tow days of being forced to lie down and drink horrible potion after horrible potion. He had broken every bone in his foot, and bone-healing potions were the worst tasting potions he had ever had. He couldn't even work out what it tasted of.

So Draco hadn't seen Hermione for what felt like weeks when he next saw her. It was lunch and he was sitting at the end of the Slytherin table when she walked in with Ron and harry in her flanks. Her wavy hair was tied back into a loose ponytail and she wore jeans and a loose t-shirt. Her hair waved behind her almost as if she were skipping. Just like she had always done when they were younger. Her face seemed to be radiating light, if that was possible. Hermione glanced over at where Draco was sitting and their gazed met. Draco looked away embarrassed, as chagrin rushed to his cheeks. Draco hid behind the Daily Prophet, pretending to be interested in an article about a new discovery. He wondered why Hermione would bother looking over were he was sitting anyway. Had she noticed his absence? He hoped so; if she had maybe he wasn't invisible to her after all.

Draco caught himself out again. Why was he so fascinated by a witch of the lowest level? He couldn't understand it. He would have to watch his mouth now. Being a Slytherin meant that he couldn't feel anything but hate towards a mud-blood like her. Saying something positive about a mud blood in the common room could cause an uproar and major embarrassment.

Draco decided that he would try to talk to Hermione later, if he ever gained the courage to talk to her. If lunch ever ended. Draco wasn't hungry and left his sandwich hardly touched, just nibbled around the edges. No one on my table noticed me, I was less important to them then the house ghosts. I think I could fairly say that I was less important to most people then Murtle.

I didn't really care about Murtle, I'd made her life living hell for the last seven years and she wouldn't want to talk to me. She definitely wouldn't because Harry was her friend. All of Harry's friends didn't like me, the only problem with that is that everyone is Harry's friend. Draco sighed and left the dining hall early. He would regret not eating later, but he could always summon more food. Draco Headed off to his makeshift dorm, in the old dungeons.


End file.
